


An Idiot Sandwich

by WhereDoesTheTimeGo



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But its Deadpool, Face Reveal, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, M/M, Secret Identity, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, because im soft for wade, just a little, soft!wade, tiny bit of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereDoesTheTimeGo/pseuds/WhereDoesTheTimeGo
Summary: "Wade, what are you?" Peter voice sounded hoarse when he reached to place his hands on each side of Wade's face. When all Wade did in response was grimace and lean into the touch, Peter traced a thumb over his cheekbone. "You're an idiot sandwich, d'you know why?"The merc with a mouth had managed to go quiet for the second time that night; doing nothing but heave and stare at Peter through those deep, sensitive blue eyes. He had to be beating some kind of record.Or: a few reveals, pinning and a lot of fluff, enjoy!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 30
Kudos: 590





	An Idiot Sandwich

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written or published anything in a while, but this two... I mean, I just love me some spideypool. I've been reading fanfiction with this pairing compulsively, so I needed to write something of my own. Also, identity reveals are my favorite, and I loved how this one ended up. Hopefully, you'll love it too!

"That's fine, Webs, you don't have to look, I'll spare you the trouble." Deadpool turned around so fast not even Peter’s enhanced eyesight could take in the face behind all the scars and burn marks.

Wow, ok, let's go back a little.

Peter hadn't been expecting any of this when Spider-Man and Deadpool followed a few robbers down the subway stairs. They had been patrolling for a couple of hours with nothing on sight. But as much as he loved spending quality time with Wade perched up on a roof, like they'd been doing for the better part of this last year, he was itching with repressed adrenaline. And a little bit of arousal. Who could blame him? Wade was… well, _Wade_ , which meant he was loud and touchy. Not to mention the constant, over-the-top flirting.

So yeah, he was glad for the bit of crime-stopping action, as it would hopefully settle his nerves.

The three robbers had big guns but nothing super for them to worry about. Also, there were no civilians on sight as the station was empty; three am action doing wonders to a place.

When the bad guys continued to shoot at them and hid in some kind of path besides the train tracks, Peter worked on a trap, high up the ceiling in case any trains decided to drop by. The last thing he wanted was endangering any passengers lifes.

Deadpool, ever the one to disregard his own safety, wasn't so careful. He chanted what Peter barely recognized as the opening song to Thomas the Tank Engine and flopped over the yellow warning lines, both katanas wielded in the air. As the universe wouldn’t have it any other way, at that precise time, Peter's spider sense went off haywire, pulling at the hairs behind his neck.

He had to web Deadpool to a wall to prevent the merc from getting run over by the incoming train.

Wade was, however, to big to fit in the gap between the wall and the train, so he got scratched; his chest and profile sliding through the metal in what had to be a few seconds of pure agony. Peter, perched up on a roof, flinched at the sight, forgetting everything else for a moment to go check on Deadpool. Because, on a second thought, he knew the merc would be fine, but before the rational part of his brain came to action, his instincts tended to scream with concern every _single_ time Wade got hurt. This school girl crush of his on the Merc with a Mouth, no less, was inclining on pathetic at this point.

Nonetheless, before Peter could even reach him, Deadpool recovered. In a flash of red, both from his blood and suit, he flung his katanas and cut through the web covering his stomach, freeing himself.

A string of bullets distracted Peter from Deadpool’s retreating form. The robbers, feeling cocky now that the merc was apparently taking a break, begun firing at Spider-Man. That lasted about three seconds. With a few fast webs he took their machineguns out of their hands, and sticked them to the wall as he had done Wade. After that, the men were rendered helpless, and flailed around a bit before falling into his improvised trap. He pulled the three-headed web-cocoon outside the train tracks and glued their feet to the ground. He was calling the police when one of them cursed and he had to web their mouths shut.

That left him with enough time to watch, from the corner of his eye, the back of Deadpool's suit disappear behind a bathroom door. Peter tipped the cops and frowned, noticing just then how quiet Wade had been after the train situation. If he had even been around, that is. He followed the man into that dark part of the station. Had Deadpool been hurt for real? That couldn’t happen, right?

"Wade?" He said, tilting the door open. When he got inside, he stilled. Deadpool was clutching his face as it healed. The bathroom had no mirrors and a dim light that flickered. Peter could see, however, that this was Wade's face. Not his mask. The black and red mask was clutched in his other hand, ripped to the point where it resembled a rag.

So now they were back at the beginning; with Wade looking away, hiding his face from him, and all Peter was able to do was stare, open mouthed, at the back of his head, bold and riddled with scars. It was when Deadpool made the attempt to walk by him to exit that he panicked.

"Wait, Deadp- Wade!" He said, clutching the man’s forearm. He noticed he had used a bit of his spider strength and loosened the grip.

Wade was still avoiding his look, keeping in the shadows, face turned to the side. And Peter, with his highly inappropriate, hormone filled, _not-quite-a-teen-anymore_ body, chose that time to notice that the cloth at Wade’s chest had also been scratched, forcing it to reveal the tight, defined musculature beneath. He swallowed dry. _Focus, Parker,_ he reprimanded himself.

Focusing, he tried to imagine being in Wade’s shoes. Peter knew how much this revelation, of both his face and scars, meant to Wade. Deadpool often expressed how he thought of himself as “ _barf-worthy_ ” and, between jokes, how often he was rejected over this. Peter didn’t know how to make those troubles go away, or how to put Wade’s mind at ease and make sure he knew Peter wouldn’t just abandon him over something as superficial as the way he looked. Heck, Peter had been hanging around Wade for almost a year now and the merc had never even let him see his chin while they ate. He was so scared he might come off as rude, or offend Wade if he asked, that he had settled for turning around every time Wade as much as hinted at his food.

Peter was trying to be respectful, to understand his boundaries and not pressure him into any situation. Because honestly, Wade didn’t owe him a single thing. Not showing him his face, nor anything he wasn’t comfortable doing.

Yet right at this moment, Peter couldn’t have given a damn about boundaries. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn’t help himself; the temptation was too much. Wade’s mask was already off, his face was inches apart. All he had to do was turn, shift a bit more into the flickering light, and Peter would be able to see, to stare into those eyes for the first time. His fingers were twitching with desire. He didn’t want to force anything on Wade, but he also didn’t want him to think Peter wasn’t ready; for seeing his face, and whatever that included. Peter was ready, he wanted this, he wanted _Wade_.

So he swallowed, and hoped that this wasn’t just too much for Wade to handle.

"Please" Peter whispered.

Wade Wilson became stiff beneath his fingers, not uncomfortable, more like surprised. Then, his shoulders sagged in resignation and a shaky breath escaped his lips. When he finally turned, he did so sharply, Peter’s grip ripped from his arm like a band-aid.

He gaped. Because forget about the scarred nonsense, Peter was now lost in two piercing blue eyes, shining even in the near darkness. The vulnerability was so visible behind them that it made Peter shudder. He wasn't surprised, thought, as it was then made clear how Deadpool’s mask had the ability to imitate his expressions; Wade altered the laws of physics with the sheer intensity of his eyes.

He was beautiful, and ugly, yeah, maybe he was ugly too. But that didn't matter. It made him Wade; just as he could be the funniest person Peter knew and still kill for a living. If everybody's faces reflected the ugliness they carried, or whatever bad things they had gone through in their lives, well let's say there would be a lot more people with scars.

He extended his hand. They were close, but Peter wanted to be closer. It wasn't enough, just watching. Before he grazed Wade's cheek, however, he hesitated.

"Does it hurt, if I touch you?"

Wade shook his head minutely, for once speechless.

When he caressed Wade's skin with his glove, the mercenary looked pained, so Peter almost withdraws. But he understood in the last second that Wade was aching for different reasons, it looked as if he hadn't been touched like this in a long time. A gloved hand covered the back of his own and invited him to keep it there.

"Sometimes it hurts" Wade rasped. "But you couldn't hurt me for the world, now could you, baby boy?"

Peter's stomach gave a flip. He was about to say _no, for christ's sake I wouldn't hurt you ever_. But it died in his throat. Saying wasn't enough.

Like a shiver up his spine, he came to understand that Wade had shown his face to him, as an accident, yes, but he'd been the one to turn around, to make the final move. And now he was here, in front of him, staring at Peter with kindness and admiration and what looked a lot like fear of rejection. So Peter thought, fair's fair, you know?

He grabbed the back of his own mask and pulled to reveal his face; hair flopping over his forehead. He had been procrastinating on a haircut. Also, he must have looked horrible, sleep-deprived, sweaty and bruised (from that punch Doc Oc had nailed in his jaw yesterday, which had gone from black to a healthy yellow in the brink of a few hours). Yet he didn't think Wade would particularly care for any of those things.

Prompted by the reveal, Wade's eyes widened and Peter could only revel in how expressive his face was. Wade took a step back and gaped, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of the water, to then come near him again. His eyes travelled Peter's face wildly, taking in his eyes, hair, lips, wanting to get to see all at once.

Then he smiled and it made his face so much nicer. Something warm climbed up Peter's chest at the sight.

Before speaking, Wade exhaled an incredulous laugh.

"Well, fuck me sideways, you just had to be the cutest motherfucker on this universe, didn't you Spidey? No, they're right, on _all_ universes. Goddamnit, look at your eyes! And that _hair"_ he groaned "can I…?"

Peter smiled and gave a short nod, feeling his cheeks light up a little. Wade carved both hands through his hair. Peter had to do wonders not to close his eyes and/or whimper, even though he was unable to stop himself from leaning into the impromptu massage.

"Fuck," Wade breathed "it has to be soft. I never, in my wildest dreams _-_ and boy, are they wild _-_ could have imagined such a cutie pie behind that spandex sex dream butt of yours. But hell, does it suit you, baby boy… I can say in confidence… wait" he stilled, hands falling from Peter's hair to his shoulders. "How old are you?"

Peter snorted. "Gee, I'm 23, thanks. I know I look like a kid, but there’s no need to be _scared_ , dude."

Wade's smile to that was blinding, a pretty nasty scar that covered the side of his face making it crooked. He feigned exaggerated relief.

"Shit Webs, for a second there I could have sworn you were jailbait and my soul nearly left my gross ol’ body. No, Yellow, I don't think it can do that, but whatever." He addressed Peter again, looking smug with his hands still resting over his shoulders. "I mean I've touched your scrumptious Spidey ass way too many times for me to be jail-free, given you were a teens, Spider-boy."

Peter laughed, shaking his head in disapproval, but he didn't miss the way in which Wade's eyes traveled to his lips, and back to his eyes, in a quick succession. And was he getting closer?

Peter stared at Wade for a moment too long, lost for words. Were they going to kiss? They were kind of close like that. Did he want to kiss Deadpool? He didn’t just want it, he _craved_ it. Instead of kissing him, the mercenary gave a heartfelt sigh.

"You're beautiful, Spidey, couldn't have imagined you better."

He breathed in and then out, staring at Wade's eyes as he gathered all the courage he had left. One last breath, and as he exhaled, he muttered "Peter."

"Huh?"

Peter's rib cage was about to burst into song. Wade's hands fell from his shoulders and he cocked his head. It was funny how his made Peter even more nervous than the almost-kiss.

"Peter Parker." He spoke once more, hating how anxious the revelation made him but sure it was the right decision nonetheless. "It's my name."

"Oh" there was a pause as Wade processed. Then another grin covered his face, and it was all worth it. "Oh, we're both alliterations, I'm pretty sure that’s the universe saying we're meant to be! This authors aren't that creative though, are they? Or they have a thing for alliterative names. Did you know my second name is Winston? Not really the most imaginative, but I think it's fun that they..."

"Wade."

"Yeah, baby boy?" But he didn't let Peter say one word. He just gestured towards his face like he couldn't believe it. "Ugh, Petey Peter's gonna be the one to finally _kill_ us. Just from being a babe… motherfucking yes, his lips! I can only wonder what that beautiful mouth is able to _do_ …" when Peter’s blush had started to hurt, burning on his ears, Wade stopped. "Was I talking out loud?"

Peter preferred not to answer. Instead, he settled for a safer, less straining of a topic.

"I don't… Wade. Listen to me. You can't tell anyone, ok? About my identity."

He tried to convey the importance of this through his look but it was tough when all Wade did was jump in place a little, grinning like and puppy being told he would go out for a walk.

"Wade, I'm serious." He said again. "No one knows, ok? Not even Stark, not even... no one. You can't tell this to anyone."

Wade brought his hands up to Peter's cheeks and squished the sides of his face.

"What are you?"

Peter snorted, but still answered "An idiot sandwich?"

"Yeah, that's right, you gorgeous baby boy. I will keep your secret. I will take it to my grave, which means I'm like, never going to ever reveal it. Alright? You can trust me, Itsy Pete-sy Spider, you can."

Peter nodded, smiling at the ridiculous nicknames, and feeling a bit more reassured. "Ok, thanks."

Because somehow, in the constant overflow of weirdness that was his life, he knew that he had come to trust Deadpool with a tad more than just his life.

And when Wade continued to muse about his butt, or whatever insane thoughts traveled his mind on a daily basis, Peter toned out, trying to adjust to the rawness of being able to see the expressions behind the mask that was Deadpool. After a few seconds of admiring Wade's bone structure, like his cheekbones, and jawline, Peter swallowed.

"Wanna go for food?" he interrupted.

Wade's eyes crinkled. "I would baby Pete, but I should just head home to get another one of those," he signaled his mask, now lying on the floor "I mean, being so beautiful and all you must be having an aneurysm just from watching my terror of a mug."

But Peter wasn't. In fact, he was aching in his bones to spend more time with Wade, and continue to stare at him. It was embarrassing, really. But he didn't feel like going home to be alone after this.

"I mean, I don't mind you being without the mask. I get it if you wanna change into a new one or something but we can meet at yours, if you want." He paused, and when Wade frowned at him he added, "I'll buy us enchiladas?"

Wade looked disbelieving.

"You don't _mind_ me being without the mask?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Have you seen us, Spidey? You'd barf if you even smelled an enchilada near this scars."

"I just…" Peter frowned. "No, no I wouldn't. I mean, I get it, you don't like how you look, it's… it's ok. But that doesn't mean I have to hate it too. I like seeing you without the mask, Wade, it makes you more human."

Wade scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "And we thought I was the insane one. Human? I look like a monster, Pete! Fucking Two-faces but in my whole face! Ok, no, that's DC. Don't wanna get copyrighted or anything. How about, Freddy Krueger meets a pool of acid!"

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad!" Peter’s made a helpless gesture. "And even if it was, I don't care. I just wanna hang out with…"

"Yeah, but… why?" Wade cut him off, voice going small by the end of the sentence. "Why would you wanna hang out with me, Peter? You've seen my face, now. But you've also seen everything else. And I'm trying to be better, yeah, not un-aliving or whatever, but I can't change what I've done. I could save all the kittens in the world, end all the nazis, and still I wouldn’t come _close_ to being good enough for you. You're just- you deserve so much more Spidey, Peter, Petey Spider. You deserve more than me."

The whole speech hit Peter in the face like an ice bucket challenge. For a few seconds he remained speechless, as he noticed the raw vulnerability grow back into Wade's face with full strength, now mixed with something like resigned self-pity. It gave him goosebumps of the bad kind and a nasty feeling to his stomach.

"Wade, what are you?" Peter voice sounded hoarse when he reached to place his hands on each side of Wade's face. When all Wade did in response was grimace and lean into the touch, Peter traced a thumb over his cheekbone. "You're an idiot sandwich, d'you know why?"

The merc with a mouth had managed to go quiet for the second time that night; doing nothing but heave and stare at Peter through those deep, sensitive blue eyes. He had to be beating some kind of record.

"Because I like you" Peter continued. "And I don't care about your past. I know that you're doing better, that you're trying to be better. Which is more than enough. You shouldn’t put me in this pedestal, like I'm perfect or whatever, I’ve done bad things too, I’ve learned from my mistakes."

He spent a few seconds thinking about how to arrange his thoughts into something meaningful, how to express all that he felt. Wade gave him space, let him think, still painfully silent, still leaning into his touch.

"Also, yes, I like spending time with you, Wade. You make me laugh harder than I probably should, and every time we patrol, or go for Mexican, I have a blast. So of course I wanna hang out, ok? I don't care if you think you're ugly or undeserving or whatever those boxes say you are. I think you're wonderful." He paused, giving his face the proper time to blush as he eyed the merc's uncovered chest. Then added "And kinda hot, by the way."

At this, Wade's mouth twitched into a smile, but his eyes were watery. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy, like it didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "You can't just say things like that, Petey, and expect me to keep my hands to myself."

Peter shrieked and jumped in place when Deadpool took a grab at his ass.

"Wade! We were having a moment, you can't just…" But then they were kissing. Wade grabbed him by the hips and pulled him forward, catching their mouths together.

Peter gasped into his lips, something jumping inside his stomach at the soft touch. Before he could even respond, however, the merc pulled back, for once looking into Peter's eyes with worry and doubt.

"I don't know if that was ok, I didn't..."

Peter scoffed.

"Shut up" he said and took Wade by the back of his neck to kiss him again.

This time the man melted, grabbing at Peter's hip bones with so much strength he might as well leave bruises, but kissing him so gently it made his knees weaken. Peter urged forward to deepen the kiss and brush their tongues together; slowly but with a twitch of desperation. He needed to show Wade how much he wanted this, for how long, and how a few scars wouldn't change a thing.

When they pulled back, panting, Wade lowered his hands to rest them on his ass, and Peter barked a laugh, foreheads still pressed against each other.

"Forget the sandwich, you're just an idiot."

**Author's Note:**

> Coments and kudos are really appreciated, they make my day! :)


End file.
